


Journey to the Savage Heartland

by Emerald



Category: Moonlight (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 20:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerald/pseuds/Emerald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mick struggles to cope when it comes to the anniversary of Beth leaving him. It's up to Josef to help him find sense amidst the chaos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Journey to the Savage Heartland

Josef rubbed his jaw where Mick's fist had connected. There wouldn't be a bruise, his vampire healing abilities had already taken care of that, nonetheless it still smarted, in more ways than one. He toyed with the keys to the car, Mick already had a good half mile on him, but he could easily catch up. Maybe it was better to let Mick walk off his anger, maybe several miles in he would tire of the cold night air and the distance of the open road, maybe he would see how ridiculous he had been.  
  
Maybe he should go after him.  
  
Josef gunned the car's engine and threw it into drive. He found Mick up ahead, stopped by the side of the road scowling at a collection of shrubbery.  
  
"So what did the bushes do to you?" Josef remarked with his usual diplomacy as he pulled alongside.  
  
"Well they didn't try and kiss me, so there's a start."  
  
"And yet here you are in the middle of nowhere, staring at the landscape like you want to rip it out by its roots and dance a merry jig on a pile of broken twigs and leaves."  
  
Mick's response had been scathing. Josef had countered with a throwaway line designed to point out the futility of arguing in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't like Mick hadn't been sending him signals these past months. There had been the little touches of affection, gifts he had carefully picked out, the nights at the opera where they had listened to the great romantic works of Rossini and Purcell. No, it wasn't like a kiss had been entirely out of the question, even if Josef's jaw said otherwise.  
  
Josef switched off the engine, and climbed out of the car. "So are you planning to sock me again if I come any closer," he asked, hands raised in a gesture of placation as he approached where Mick stood.  
  
"No." His arms folded across his chest the scowl lines in Mick's brow etched deeper, if that were even possible.  
  
"Look, I'm sorry; I got my wires crossed, I thought you'd be up for it." Josef shrugged, his own hands shoved jauntily into the pockets of his suit pants as he added a spring to his step. No harm, no foul.  
  
"I would have been if you'd picked any night, but this one."  
  
Mick spun heel to face Josef then. Quickly Josef quickly ran through a mental checklist of nights you weren't supposed to kiss on, nights that would raise Mick's ire. Finally he hit upon the date.  
  
"So tonight's the anniversary of Beth running off to somewhere in Connecticut with that agent guy, and that's why we're standing out here having a brood off. How many points do I score?" Josef grinned and waited for Mick's snappy retort. Instead he watched as Mick's shoulders sank with defeat.  
  
"Talbot, his name was Ben Talbot."  
  
"I'm sorry." Josef was genuinely remorseful. It took Mick by surprise; he'd expected a snappy comeback, something in Josef's arsenal of clever witticisms. Instead Josef took a step forward, and placed a comforting hand on Mick's shoulder. "If it means anything I probably would have punched your lights out too if you'd made the moves on me when it was the anniversary of Sarah's death."  
  
"Time to hone our brooding skills, hey." Mick gave a lopsided smile. "Guess I should apologise for your jaw as well."  
  
"I heal fast," Josef stretched his mouth open and closed several times to demonstrate. "See, all better."  
  
Mick didn't say anything, merely nodded and gave what amounted to a wistful smile, lost as he was in his own private reverie. Josef sensed they were approaching a place of dark thoughts and memories. He looked over at Mick hunkered down on the dirt edge of the road now, his arms wrapped around his knees.  
  
"Mind if I join you?" Josef asked, before taking a seat next to Mick. Ordinarily he wouldn't have bothered with such niceties, not with their friendship built on seating arrangements that didn't require words, but there was something in Mick's pose that told him tact might be the best approach given the situation.  
  
"Be my guest, it's a free country," Mick shrugged as Josef sat down beside him.  
  
"I am sorry, you know, about Beth." Josef picked at a dried leaf on the ground in front of him. "I was hoping you two crazy kids had a shot at it, you know."  
  
"Yeah, I know." Mick picked up a handful of gravel and tossed it onto the road. "Hoping's not the same as happening though; guess the universe had other plans."  
  
"I could have said the same about Sarah." Josef shifted a little closer then, rested a hand on Mick's knee. He hoped it wouldn’t be seen as too overt gesture. For his own part Mick didn't move. It was a good sign, Josef thought. At least Mick was approachable. "I could write a book you know, all the ways I've tried to expunge Sarah's memory from my mind. I'd call it 'journey to the savage heartland," Josef spelt out the imaginary title in the air above him, "a not so gripping tale of drugs, and anonymous sex, and too many bottles of Whiskey to keep count."  
  
"Did any of it help?" Mick asked, allowing his body to relax a little. Talking to Josef was good; Josef always could make him feel better. He wondered for a moment what that meant for their relationship.  
  
"Well the anonymous sex and stumbling around in a stupor for days on end was kind of fun, but no, it didn't help," Josef stood up then, brushed the dirt from his pants. He was keen to get going, he could think of a hundred other places they could be talking, places with amenities and cushions, lots and lots of soft luxurious cushions.  
  
"Then what did?" Mick accepted Josef's proffered hand, allowed himself to be pulled to his feet as they headed back to the car, the scene of the crime, Mick thought, as he remembered Josef's lips brushing against his own, and then the king hit he'd delivered to the side of Josef's face. He winced a little at the memory; he wasn't usually in the habit of using his best friend as a punching bag.  
  
"What helped?" Josef climbed into the driver's seat then and gunned the engine, before giving a stark, single word answer. "You."  
  
Mick was taken aback as they drove from the outskirts back to LA in relative silence. It had only been one word, a singular pronoun, and yet Mick had to wonder exactly how much weight that pronoun carried. 'You' - as if that were it, as if he had been the answer waiting in the wings all this time. One of these days would he think the same about Josef, expunge the memory of Beth with single word pronouns?  
  
They'd reached the steps of Josef's apart then. Josef ushered Mick inside, apologising for the state of the place as he lead the two of them down to one of the back rooms. "I got bored with the old décor."  
  
"So now you're going for bombed out chic?" Mick chuckled as he looked around at exposed beams, and plaster board strewn across chipped wooden floors. It was the first genuine sign of relaxation he'd shown all night.  
  
A drink was pressed into Mick's hand, one third Scotch, two thirds blood. Mick inhaled the aroma, and then downed the contents in two quick gulps, before holding his glass out for a refill.  
  
"You planning on taking the get drunk route then," Josef prodded.  
  
Mick raised his glass in a mock toast. "What did you call it, journey to the savage heartland?"  
  
"It's not a place I recommend you know, Mick."  
  
And there was Josef caring again, Josef the mentor, Josef the older brother always looking out. Josef the erstwhile friend turned lover if Mick's emotions had anything to do with it.  
  
"What did you mean I was the one who helped you get through when Sarah died?" Mick summoned up the courage to ask then. "It's not like I remember actually doing anything."  
  
"You didn't, not directly at least." Josef took a seat on a couch in the room, and gestured for Mick to join him. "You were so happy, and in love with Beth at the time it gave me a glimmer of hope. Made me think maybe the universe didn't suck that much. By the time it had ended with you and Beth I'd already ridden out my wave of grief. Still," Josef grew reflective then, "there's always that one night of the year."  
  
"The night when you'd rather be alone," Mick finished what he thought were the unspoken words in Josef's sentence.  
  
"Or the night I'd rather curl up in bed with you, forget things all together," Josef raised his own glass to his lips and took a hefty swig of Whiskey chased blood. "We all have our ways of coping you know, Mick. I felt your guilt back there on the highway, when I kissed you. I also felt your need."  
  
A hand reached out to caress the contours of Mick's face, and then he was being drawn forward, unresisting, until his lips were pressed against Josef's own, and his hands were flying to the buttons on Josef's shirt, slipping the jacket from his shoulders. Mick wondered then if this was what Josef had meant, to lose yourself at the bottom of a liquor glass, come together in a heated clash of limbs and fangs, rising, always rising towards meaningless acts of debauchery. Is this what drove the demons away?  
  
"I'm sorry." It was Josef who broke proceedings, an apology at the ready as he quickly straightened his clothing, and smoothed a hand through Mick's crumpled hair. "Mindless sex isn't your way of coping with things."  
  
"What about meaningful sex? Or are you going to tell me there's no such thing?" Mick watched as Josef poured another round of drinks. He felt oddly, uncomfortably aroused.  
  
"I don't know, Mick; does this have any meaning to you?"  
  
"Maybe." He was being deliberately obtuse then. Nothing with Josef was without meaning, Mick had realised that a long time ago. But these last few months, and if it had been any other night but this one…  
  
"You know I was hoping we'd have more cushions," Josef looked around at the starkness of the room, seemingly changing the subject then. Half his furniture was in storage. One couch, a desk, and a coffee table did not necessarily a comfortable atmosphere make.  
  
"What difference would cushions make?"  
  
Now who was being obtuse, Mick thought as he studied Josef sitting there, legs kicked out, trying to affect a world weary pose when inside Mick could sense everything that was reflected in him.  
  
"Well you could fluff them up, spread them out on the floor, make them more comfortable," Josef waved a lackadaisical hand, and Mick wondered if they were really talking about cushions, or if this was Josef's idea of playing word games.  
  
He preferred it when they were just kissing.  
  
"And that's your idea of meaningful sex then is it, plump up a few cushions." Mick snorted a laugh and knocked back another draw of Whiskey, having made Josef's measure.  
  
"No," Josef shook his head as he poured a final shot. "My idea of meaningful sex is to take you upstairs and let you sleep off the remainder of whatever misery you have left. Tomorrow will be a different story."  
  
Mick still felt the memory of Josef's lips against his own. Journey to the savage heartland, Josef had called it. Sex without meaning, nights without hope, lost in a haze of his own making. But what if there were meaning, what then?  
  
This time it was Mick who initiated the kiss. He had what he wanted in the here and now.  
  
Tomorrow could wait.


End file.
